Page 171 of Lovers Like Us

So he couldn’t have known about the board or the vote. I believethis.

I knowthis.

Because despite all the bad blood, I trust Charlie with H.M.C. Philanthropies and the wealth. It’s why he’s on the board. If an apocalypse happens, Charlie Keating Cobalt is the last safetynet.

The one person who’d shut down anydissention.

And he’s been absent from the office, with me, for four months. An ambitious prick could’ve taken advantage ofthat.

“Moffy.” Charlie props himself on his elbow. “What’s goingon?”

My muscles thaw. “The board just voted meout.”

His face falls before his yellow-green eyes pierce the wall. Shock, then anger—his reaction isn’t that far off from mine. “Who’s the newCEO?”

“Ernest Mangold.” I explain every damn thing that Victoria told me in less than a few minutes. “That’s all Iknow.”

“Son of a bitch.” Charlie climbs out of the bed in boxer-briefs, his golden-brown hair messy. He follows me into the first lounge. Jane and Farrow hang back, letting us deal with thismess.

I find a laptop and open it by the coffee pot. Stillstanding.

Charlie hovers close. “Ernest must’ve manipulated the board—and thosefuckingidiots fell for it.” He groans into his hands, then pushes his hair back. “People are sostupid.”

“He could’ve blackmailed them.” I’m still super-glued to this theory. I pop up flights out of the Denver airport. The tour bus will have to take a short detour, but my cousins will still make the Boulder FanCon intime.

Charlie watches me search for flights. “I should’ve left the tour weeksago—”

“No.” I risk a short glance at him. “I’m glad you stayed. You surprised me.” I seriously thought he wouldn’t last the whole tour. I thought he’d quit on everyone and just leave. He proved me wrong. “I shouldn’t always think the fucking worst about you, Charlie. I’msorry.”

He flinches at the suddenapology.

I let out a pained laugh. “And now I’m the first one to bail.” Sarcastic, I add, “Fifty points toHufflepuff.”

Charlie slides the computer towards himself. My hands slip off the keyboard, and he uses the track-pad and pops up a newwindow.

He logs onto a site where we book private jets. “Don’t fly commercial. This’ll be faster.” Charlie angles the laptop towards me. He knows I prefer flying commercial, even though the paparazzi are like locusts at the airport. But private jets cost a lot, and they’re bad on fuel and theenvironment.

Charlie waits for anargument.

But he’s right. It’s faster, and it’ll help me reach Philly more inconspicuously. No media speculation or attention. So I fill out the flight box and I hesitate on the line:how manypassengers?

My eyes flit to him. “You coming withme?”

He looks away inthought.

Even the idea of confronting the board without Charlie feels suffocating. He’ll be the only person I trust there. He’s the safetynet.

I remember Harvard. How I felt the exact same back then. He was supposed to be the familiar face on campus, my one lifeline. Maybe I should’ve told him that. Maybe he has no clue what Ifelt.

Or maybe he still would’ve left me, no matterwhat.

But I can’t just let him go thistime.

“Charlie.” I catch his gaze. “I need you to be there with me. I can’t…” I shake my head as the words lodge in my throat, afraid of saying the wrong fucking thing. I lick my lips. “I can’t do thisalone.”

He doesn’t break eye contact. “Okay.”

“Okay?”